


A Wonderful Place

by ExpatGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Deserves to be Happy, Cas Heals People, Case Fic, Christmas, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dragons, F/M, Fluff, Hospitals, Kissing, M/M, Sam Deserves to be Happy, Snow, Team Free Will, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case that isn't a case is frustrating, until it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wonderful Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BurningTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/gifts).



> Happy birthday [BurningTea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/pseuds/BurningTea)!
> 
> My challenge was baubles, snow, and dragons. :)

The world could be an awful place. Sam knew this better than most people, but sometimes the realization liked to spring up unannounced to slap him in the face. Like now, as their case unraveled around them. It hadn’t been a shtriga, after all, but rather a contaminated building. (How enticing abandoned factories were to children who’d never had to sleep in one.)

There was nothing he or Dean could do about non-supernatural illness. Three of the children—two of the boys, and the girl—were likely to make a full recovery. The fourth, though, a kid named, in some particularly cruel twist of fate, Ben, well…

The world could be an awful place. But Sam didn’t waste time musing on the dull-eyed parents he’d seen in the hospital waiting room, letting their cups of coffee go cold. Instead he watched the line of Dean’s shoulders grow increasingly taut as he paced around the motel room, a physical echo of the havoc in his head. Sam didn’t have to ask. Anything involving kids was bound to hit Dean like a hammer blow. Being unable to do anything would just make it worse. His anger gathered like the snow clouds outside the window, dark and leaden.

Sam knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk about it—Dean _never_ wanted to talk about it, whatever the ‘it’ of the moment was—but whether, eventually, he’d unburden himself of his grief and misplaced guilt with words or with fists, Sam couldn’t tell. Which, okay, that wasn’t fair. The Mark was gone, Dean’s soul was his own, but the memory of the last year and a half was still too close to the surface of their every interaction, a bruise under the skin.

Sam began and discarded several potential lines without opening his mouth. Approaching this sideways would probably be the best bet, but Dean wasn’t in a state to be out drinking at a bar quite yet. Okay. Food it was then. There was a Biggerson’s about ten miles away, just off the interstate. While Sam didn’t particularly relish the thought of choking down another mostly-Iceberg salad, the bland sameness of the place and its food would probably soothe Dean’s thoughts as much as anything could.

Before he could make the suggestion, though, his phone rang. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket.

_Oh, shit. Four new messages._

“Sorry, Cas,” he said, before Cas could even say hello. “We had to turn our phones off inside the hospital. I only remembered to turn it back on a few minutes ago.” He put the call on speaker. Dean turned at the sound of Cas’ name, and immediately began fumbling for his own phone.

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “You and Dean are okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Sorry to worry you,” Sam said, rubbing his forehead.

“I understand,” Cas said, and the relief in his voice was audible. “I’m just glad you’re both alright.”

How strange to have someone so intensely invested in their welfare. Even now it kind of threw him, the thought that there was someone, other than Dean, who would panic if he didn’t answer his calls and texts, who would reach out just to know how things were going. John had never been a big believer in the check-in. That’s what contingency plans were for. You only got in touch when you found yourself in a situation you couldn’t handle--and often, not even then.

Cas said something, but Sam missed it, and he only managed to snap his focus back to the conversation at hand when he heard the tail end of Dean’s reply.

“...total bust. Bunch of toxic chemicals in a building they were using as a playground.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said.

“Don’t be sorry for me, I’m not the one who’s kid’s gonna be dead in two days,” Dean practically snarled. “Merry fucking Christmas, right?”

“Dean,” Sam said softly. Dean’s hands were clenched into fists. He saw Dean take a deep breath, then begin removing his tie as though it had burned him.

On the other end of the line, Cas was quiet. “I see,” he said, eventually. “Where are you now?”

“We’re, uh, about twelve miles outside Des Plaines,” Dean said, his anger giving way to confusion.

“That’s, what, ten hours?”

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly, “give or take.”

“I’ll leave now.”

“There’s a major snow storm between Omaha and Cedar Rapids,” Dean cut in. “Your brakes. I haven’t had a chance to…”

“I’ll go through Springfield instead,” Cas said, before he could finish. “And my brakes are fine, like I said before. No strange noises.”

“When did you get home?” Dean asked, his tie forgotten, hanging askew from underneath his collar.

“About three hours ago,” Cas said. In the background, Sam could hear the muffled noises of clothes being put on, cups clattering in the sink, car keys. “Most of what I found was no good, but there are one or two potentially useful things in there. I sent you photos.” There was the sound of a car door squeaking open and then thudding closed. “Dean, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Dean nodded. For a moment there was a look of stark, exhausted relief, but then his eyes caught Sam’s, and his expression settled into something approaching blank. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll send you the motel address. Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“Cas?” Sam asked, still watching Dean, who was now slumped down in the rickety wooden chair.

“Yeah?”

“You got an EPA badge?”

“I...think so, yes. Um. Dalton Castle, I think?”

“That’s it,” Dean said gruffly, not looking at Sam.

“Use that one. No one’s going to buy three Feds for a condemned building.”

“Right. See you in ten hours.” The call ended.

“Dalton Castle? I forgot about that,” Sam said, biting back a grin. What a difference a phone call made. “ _Roadhouse_ I can understand. But _Dirty Dancing_?”

“Okay, A: _Swayze_. And B: Jennifer Grey was hot.”

Sam laughed, feeling it bubble up like champagne. “Jennifer Grey, of course, yeah.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, utterly losing the battle to contain his smile. He turned away. “I’m gonna go hit the shower. Then we can get some food.”

“Sounds good,” Dean said. His earlier black mood had dissolved almost entirely. “There’s a Biggerson’s nearby.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, from the bathroom. The pipes groaned and clanked as the shower sputtered to life.

“They have a turkey dinner, Sam! I’m sure they’d put tinsel on your salad, if you asked.”

“Ugh!” Sam said louder, over the hiss of the water. “Fine, but we’re stopping at Whole Foods on the way back.”

“Fine, I guess.”

 _Fine, you guess_ , Sam thought. He worked the shampoo into his hair. _Says the guy that bought a tube of $50 organic calendula moisturizer the last time we were there._

Well, the sales associate _had_ had a very fine pair of blue eyes, after all.

****

Cas arrived eleven and a half hours after they’d spoken. It was just after dawn, but the pink of the sunrise was blotted out by the snow that had finally decided to fall.

“Sorry,” he said, looking even more windswept than usual as he stepped into the room. “I had to stop for gas.”

“Brakes hold up okay?” Dean asked immediately, brushing the snow from Cas’ shoulders. There were fat flakes of it slowly melting in his hair.

“Yes, Dean, the brakes were fine,” Cas said, sounding remarkably unannoyed. He’d probably passed through the eye-rolling stage and now reached the zen of giving up entirely.

“And the…”

“And the snow tires were fine, too, yes.”

“Hey man, I just want to make sure you don’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Cas didn’t bother to point out the obvious illogical component to Dean’s worry, and instead nodded. “I appreciate your concern. Everything worked perfectly. You should have more faith in your skills as a mechanic.”

Dean was apparently unable to come up with a response to that. After a few moments of watching the two of them try to telepathically communicate via close-up eye contact ( _Maybe they can_. _It would sure explain a lot_.), Sam cleared his throat. He congratulated himself on not pushing their faces together.

“Visiting hours don’t start until after noon,” Sam said, “but I think we can probably get away with getting in there now. Probably should, too, before a real EPA agent shows up.”

Dean made a derisive noise. “Please. No way any actual government worker’s going to be on a case like this before the new year.”

“Oh,” Cas said. He looked at Sam in alarm. “Will that...raise suspicions? My being too punctual?”

“Nah,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll just tell them you were in the area on another case that you can’t discuss.”

Sam found hospitals at Christmas to be both depressing and heartrendingly hopeful. Nurses with bruise-dark shadows under their eyes wore festive scrubs. Red and silver garlands hung bravely under the harsh white lights, held up with Scotch tape and sagging slightly in the middle. The pediatric ward had dozens of pictures of wobbly snowmen, drawn in crayon, stuck to the walls. In a distant room, someone was singing, off-key but enthusiastic.

The world could be a wonderful place, even when it was awful.

It was easy enough to get in; most of the staff remembered them from yesterday, those nice FBI agents, so good with kids. Ben’s mother had gone home to look after her other child, and his father sat dozing in a chair next to the bed.

“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked, peering through the window.

“You two distract him as best you can,” Cas was saying, straightening his tie and pulling out his wallet. “I only need a few moments. He’s breathing on his own?”

“For now,” Sam said.

Cas looked at Dean. “Do you want me to bring him all the way around?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, tightening his jaw.

“It’ll be risky,” Sam pointed out. “They said the odds of him waking up are almost zero. If he just suddenly opens his eyes...”

“It’s alright,” Cas said, before Dean could say anything, and still looking at him. “I’ll take the risk. Come on.”

The room was the same shade of pale blue as the rest of the hospital. In the corner, under the television, which silently flashed some holiday crap, there stood a small plastic Christmas tree with cheerful little baubles. It was topped by a lopsided angel made of glass.

It was a credit to Dean’s indefatigable charm and Castiel’s ability to look inhumanly sincere that Ben’s father didn’t seem to register the oddity of their request immediately. As Cas stepped away, towards the bed, Dean followed him. Sam slid easily into their spot, drawing attention away from what they were doing behind him with some inane questions he’d probably already asked yesterday.

“No, I don’t think...hey, what are you doing?”

Sam turned in time to see Cas and Dean moving away from the bed.

“Hm?” Dean asked as he approached, taking a page from Cas’ book and adopting a look of perfect guilelessness. “What’s who doing?”

“My son, what were you...oh my God.” He pushed through them as though he no longer saw them. They turned to watch the scene as the pale little figure on the bed opened his eyes with a gasp and tried to sit up, hindered by the tubes and wires around him.

“We should probably go,” Dean whispered, as Ben’s father began weeping openly. “This is…”

“Private, yeah,” Sam agreed.

“Oh,” Cas said, as though the notion of privacy hadn’t occurred to him. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.” But he didn’t follow immediately, and as Sam looked back, he saw Cas smiling as the boy stared at him, wide-eyed. Finally, he joined them in the hallway.

“Good work,” Sam said, as they made their way to the exit.

“I’m glad I could be of use,” Cas said, sounding pleased. “For something other than smiting, I mean.”

“Yeah, that was...you did good, Cas.” Dean’s shoulder seemed to bump against Cas’ with every step they took, and neither seemed to mind.

“Thank you.”

“Detective Gabriel!” someone called out behind them, and Sam turned, after a second of trying to remember if that was him this month. It was the nurse he’d seen last night, the one he’d been pretty sure was giving him the eye. Wan and clearly tired, but with a bright beatific smile and soft honey blonde hair. “Wait a minute, please!”

“You guys go on ahead, get the car warmed up,” Sam said, as Dean and Cas turned to look at him. He turned away from Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Hi,” the nurse—Melissa, her badge read—said breathlessly as she caught up to him.

“Hey, Melissa,” Sam said, walking them both away from the draft by the doors. Her cardigan, cute as it was with its pattern of reindeer and snowflakes, wouldn’t be enough to keep her warm. “What can I do for you?”

“Detective…”

“Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” she said. The glint in her eye as she said it gave lie to the demure blush that crept across her face. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Something remarkably like hope began to rise in his chest.

“You and your colleague, actually. The, uh, dark haired one?”

“Oh,” Sam said, feeling his hope deflate.

“Yes,” she said, continuing to smile at him, unaware. “The boy, the one whose father you were talking to earlier. Did you know he’s woken up?”

“Really?” Sam said, feigning surprise. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“No one can explain it. The doctors were sure that...well, never mind. They’re calling it a Christmas miracle. I half expect to hear bells ringing.”

“Bells?”

“ _It’s a Wonderful Life_? You know, every time a bell rings…”

“Ah, yeah, an angel gets its wings,” Sam said, feeling a sudden tightness in his throat. He coughed, hoping to disguise its source. “I remember.”

“Speaking of angels, Ben wanted your colleague to have this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the glass figurine that had been leaning precariously on top of the Christmas tree. She held it out to him.

“He did?” Sam asked, taking it.

“Yeah! Weirdest thing. Very first words he said. He was _adamant_.” She smiled again.

“Well, uh, thank you. I’ll...I’ll give it to him right now. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” He turned to go.

“Wait,” Melissa said, laying a hand on his arm. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Uh…”

“I said I had something for you, too.” And there was that glint in her eye again. She slid a carefully folded slip of paper into his hand. “In case you haven’t made plans for New Year’s Eve yet. I have the night off for once, hallelujah.” Then she winked at him-actually _winked_ at him-and walked back toward the pediatric ward.

“I’ll, I’ll call you,” Sam said as she moved away. He slipped the phone number into his pocket.

“God bless us, every one,” she said over her shoulder.

Sam made his way back toward the parking lot, feeling warmed through in spite of the snow. He hadn’t gone two steps, however, before he stopped sharply. Unless his eyesight was failing him, there was Dean, pressing someone who looked remarkably like Cas up against the passenger’s side of the car and kissing him with every ounce of focus in his body, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. Which, of course, it was. Of _course_ it was.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Sam said under his breath, as he made his way over to them.

The world could be a wonderful place.

****

“We need to go back to Illinois,” Sam said, a few days later.

“Oh?” Dean asked from the kitchen. “You gonna take that girl up on her offer? A nurse, Sam. Nice one. Very respectable.”

“I...there’s a potential case,” Sam said into his beer.

“Seriously?” Dean emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Come on, give it a rest for five minutes. Go let off some steam.”

“What’s the case?” Cas asked. He looked up from his book to study Dean intently, before turning his attention to Sam.

“Three people have gone missing from Chinatown in the past month. All abducted from the riverside.”

“Huh,” Dean said, settling into the chair next to Cas. “They’ve been having really bad flooding in Chicago, haven’t they?” He frowned. “But I’m not getting how this might be a case.”

“One of my contacts thinks the victims might be...uh…”

“Might be what, Sam?”

“Might be dragons.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “So, someone’s getting rid of dragons, how’s that a problem?”

“Chinese dragons, Dean,” Sam said, turning his laptop around. It displayed a picture of the most recent victim, a handsome young man with artfully disheveled hair.

“So?”

“They’re powerful forces, but they’re not destructive,” Cas said, squinting at the screen. “Not like the kind of dragon you’re thinking of.”

“They’re good guys?”

“You want them on your side,” Cas agreed. “They’re driven to protect and help those that are worthy of it. I must admit I...feel a certain affinity for them.”

“And they control the elements,” Sam put in, filing Cas’ comment away for later inspection.

“Elements such as water,” Dean said. Sam could see the pieces falling into place as he spoke. “Damn.”

“So are we taking it?” Cas asked. He clicked onto the next profile. This one was an older woman with snowy white hair.

“Yeah,” Dean said, leaning into Cas’ space and sliding an arm around his shoulders. “Me and you will take it. Sam’s got a date.”

“Dean…”

“We’ll head out in the morning,” Dean said serenely. “We’ll drop you off in Des Plaines and then circle back for you when we’re done. Won’t take more than a few days. Hey, you ever been to Wrigley Field, Cas?”


End file.
